Jeanne was looking down the little slant to the cottages and the wigwams, and speculating upon the queerness of marriage.
"I wish I had made as much fortune as Tony Beeson. But then I'm only a little past sixteen, and in five years I shall be twenty-one. Then I am going to have a wife and house of my own."
"O Pierre!" Jeanne broke into a soft laugh.
"Yes, Jeanne—" turning very red.
The girl was looking at him in a mirthful fashion and it rather disconcerted him.
"You won't mind waiting, Jeanne—"
"I shan't mind waiting, but if you mean—" her cheeks turned a deeper scarlet and she made a little pause—"if you mean marrying I should mind that a good deal;" in a decisive tone.
"But not to marry me? You have known me always."
"I should mind marrying anyone. I shouldn't want to sweep the house, and cook the meals, and wash, and tend babies. I want to go and come as I like. I hated school at first, but now I like learning and I must crack the shell to get at the kernel, so you see that is why I make myself agree with it."
"You cannot go to school always. And while you are there I shall be up to the Mich making some money."